


Breaking Point

by rufeepeach



Series: Cursed [1]
Category: Once Upon A Time - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-25
Updated: 2012-04-25
Packaged: 2017-11-04 07:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rufeepeach/pseuds/rufeepeach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle has been living with Mr Gold for six months, ever since the Mayor ‘saved’ her from the asylum. They’re happy, but there’s one problem: he’s treating her like she’s completely untouchable, and keeping his distance. Belle decides to correct that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Point

Belle smoothed her tunic down over her jeans, and pulled on her boots: their floors were always horribly cold first thing in the morning, even in the middle of summer. Unfortunately, her slippers had mysteriously disappeared a few weeks back.

She had a sneaking suspicion that she knew where they went: she was pretty sure a certain Scottish bastard had stolen them after discovering how warm and cosy they were to wear in the middle of a particularly cold night. Luckily for Gold, Belle found the mental image of him wearing her fluffy shoes funny enough to let it go.

She went downstairs from her room into the kitchen, and was unsurprised to find him already showered and fully dressed at the table, reading the _Mirror_.

He was a morning person. Which fit well, because so was she. He was always right there, in the kitchen, with a mug of tea and the newspaper, in one of his impeccable suits, no matter how early she got up.

“Good morning, Belle. Did you sleep well?” he asked, without looking up.

She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Mm, okay.” she replied, squeezing him in her arms.

‘You’d know,’ she thought, ‘if you let me move out of the guest room.’

She held on, breathing in the fresh, clean smell of his shampoo and the deeper, muskier scent of his skin. She could feel his heart start to beat a little harder, a little faster, and he brought a hand up to hold the two looped over the front of his chest.

She was practically nuzzling into his neck, and all he did was hold her hand.

It was infuriating.

—-

She did this every morning.

She came down, chirpy and bright, and hugged him from behind. And usually, when he reached up to grasp her hand, she let go, and they went about their business.

But today, she was holding on a little longer, and he could feel her warmth seeping into his skin, inhale the scent of rose petals wafting from her hair.

Every morning he wished he could be like any other lover, and reach around to pull her into his lap; to kiss her long and hard and make her as breathless and undone as she deserved to be, as he dreamed her almost every night.

But that wasn’t how he was going to go about this. He chided himself for his thoughts: Belle was a girl still recovering from God-knew-what, from Regina’s ‘care’, from the transition between the Realms and Storybrooke. And even if she wasn’t, she was still _Belle_. The girl he’d cast out for being innocent, for saying she loved him, for being too good to be true.

Gold had never been a man bent on self-flagellation. But he knew that Belle deserved much better than him, and had convinced himself quite successfully that, by keeping her at arms length, she’d eventually get bored and find someone better for her.

Pure, perfect girls didn’t deserve to be trapped with monsters.

But she’d never thought of him as a monster, and that wasn’t the look she was giving him now. The look she was giving him now was heated, lustful and loving all at once.

Then she broke away, and sank into her seat next to him as if nothing had happened.

It was frustrating, but there was nothing he could do.

—-  
  


“Maybe he’s gay.” Ruby, never one to sugar-coat things, leaned over the counter and looked sympathetically at her friend.

“He’s not gay.” Belle laughed, and took another long sip of her coffee, “Trust me.”

“I don’t know,” Mary Margaret pitched in, doubtfully, “I’ve lived here my whole life and never heard of him going on a date, let alone having a girlfriend.”

“Guys!” Belle silenced her friends, “Just trust me, I live with the man.”

“Well that’s exactly my point,” Ruby caught Granny frowning at her from the door to the kitchen, and started earnestly scrubbing the countertop, “He’s a guy who doesn’t seem to have gotten any action in at least a quarter century, living with a gorgeous woman who’s _totally_ into him, and he hasn’t tried anything. It’s weird.”

“I think it’s romantic.” Mary Margaret smiled at Belle; “He’s not pushing anything, letting you set the pace.”

“I can’t set the pace if he’s not willing to follow.”

“Who says?” Ruby straightened up, her Female Empowerment face in full force, “Come on, if he’s not willing to get things moving, maybe it’s time to take matters into your own dainty little hands.”

“Oh come on,” Belle laughed, “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

Ruby raised an unimpressed eyebrow, “Belle, you work at the library five days a week. This might be Storybrooke but even we have Harlequin romances.”

Mary Margaret was nodding, enthusiastically, “Yeah, they’re at the back behind the gardening section, but you need the red ones, not the blue, because… never mind.” She trailed off at Ruby’s surprised stare, and took a long drink of her hot chocolate to hide her embarrassment.

“While that’s information we will _so_ be discussing later,” Ruby smirked at Mary Margaret, who refused to look at her, “I think you have some reading to do.”

Belle nodded, paid for her coffee, and headed quickly for the library.

—-  
  


That evening, when Gold got home from his shop, he could hear singing coming from the back. A divine smell – some kind of pasta sauce, he guessed – was wafting through the house.

He had to laugh when he got to the kitchen and found Belle, leaning over the stove, singing loudly along to the radio.

“Who _died_ and made you KING OF ANYTHING?” she sang, hitting maybe every third note, dancing around.

“Very tuneful, love.” He smirked, and expected her face to slip into an annoyed frown and perhaps a dishcloth to collide with his arm.

Instead, she just grinned at him, and came around the table to greet him.

The table cloth had obscured his view of anything below her waist: the clingy red dress she’d put on was a far cry from her conservative jeans and tunic this morning, and showed almost every inch of her long, toned legs.

He felt his mouth go dry, and covered his surprise with a wider smile, “What’re you cooking?”

“Dinner.” she answered, and took his hands in hers, “Come on, dance with me.”

He laughed, “I can’t, love.” He gestured to his cane, and hoped she’d drop the idea.

“Nonsense,” she had that determined look that made him nervous, “Come on, we can go _very_ slowly,” she breathed this last as she pulled him closer to her, putting his hand on her waist and the other in her own, her lips now very close to his ear. “Now, just sway with me,” a slower song had come on the radio, something hypnotic and romantic.

Gods, she was so close. To help him keep his balance, she’d pulled them so close together that he could feel her breasts pressing against his chest, feel her heartbeat racing through that thin, clingy dress.

They swayed around the kitchen for what seemed like an eternity, as he lost himself in the feeling of her in his arms, so soft and warm and _alive_.

Her eyes were deep and blue, and for a long second they stared into his with a look so deep, so warm and dark, that he wanted to just stay that way forever.

His hand had strayed down a little from its safe position on her waist, and he was now cupping the curve of her hip in his hand. ‘It would be so easy,’ he thought, ‘to just lean down and kiss her.’

‘To hoist her up by her hips; to lay her bare and have my way with her, right there on the kitchen table.’

Her smile widened, and for just a moment he was ready to do just that, his control stretched to its limits.

And then, the song ended, and she leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips – the greatest concession he’d allowed himself from his No-Touching-Belle rule in the months since she’d moved in – and broke away, “I need to keep cooking.”

She spun away from him, and he swore he heard her giggle as she went back to stirring the sauce.

—-  
  


Belle had fun at dinner.

The meal was simple, just spaghetti and tomato sauce, but she didn’t really notice the taste.

She was too busy leaning forward as they talked, giving him the best view possible down the deep V-neck of her dress without looking like she was trying too hard.

She’d been a little nervous when she’d tried it on at Ruby’s: it was so much more revealing than anything she usually wore, and she was afraid of his reaction.

That had changed when he’d stopped dead at the sight of her.

Oh, Mr Gold was _definitely_ not gay.

She inched over in her seat a little, just so that their legs were brushing under the table. She didn’t look at him as she did it, the picture of innocence twirling her spaghetti, but she noticed the way he swallowed, hard, and went tense all over.

“So, how was work?” she asked, conversationally, hiding her smirk.

“Fairly predictable,” he replied, his voice a little lower and huskier than usual. The new tone, mixed with that Scottish accent she’d always loved, affected her more than she’d care to admit. “How about you, dear?”

“Oh,” she genuinely blushed, thinking of how she’d spent _her_ day; “It was very… interesting.”

“Oh?” that got his attention, and he looked up from his food, where his eyes had been carefully focused since he’d caught himself staring down the front of her dress, “In what way?”

“Well, the A/C broke again, and it was so _hot_ today,” she sighed, “I had to hide in the back where it was cooler.”

“Yes, it was very warm.”

“I think I need to go shopping soon: all my clothes are too heavy. I had to borrow this dress from Ruby, what do you think?” By this point, she knew she was just being cruel, but he didn’t seem to mind too much. She stood up and put her hands on her hips, “Is it too big? Ruby’s taller than I am.”

She watched his eyes flick from her face down over her body, lingering in all the right places.

He cleared his throat, “No, it looks… perfect.” His expression turned to something almost distressingly dark and carnal, like he was a beast about to devour her.

She shivered, and sat back down. She’d hoped to prompt him into action: she hadn’t expected his reaction to affect her so much.

“Thanks.” She beamed, “I hope it’s cooler tomorrow. I had to come home early to change clothes – this is the first day I’ve been here that the shortage of hot water has been a good thing. Coming home today and having a long, cold shower was just _heaven_.”

Now she was just stealing passages out of those romance novels her friends had recommended. They seemed to be having the desired effect, though. She stretched out a hand and placed it on his forearm, smiling up at him.

“I bet it was.” He was smiling back, and it was almost a smirk. They’d leaned in, so their faces were so close she could feel his breath on her skin.

“Even now,” she continued, low and breathy, going in for the kill, “I’m a little too warm in here. This house is usually so cold but lately…” she sighed, and they stayed that way for a moment, just staring at each other.

“What are you doing?” he asked, matching her tone.

“You’re so cold all the time, Gold,” she looked into his eyes, “You need to let me warm you up.”

She saw the moment he broke; the second his control snapped. He grabbed her, one hand threading into her hair as he hauled her against him, his mouth crashing against hers.

She moaned in response, her own hands coming to grip the sides of his head, holding on for dear life.

He kissed her harder than she’d ever before, with such passion she felt her bones melt, her skin suddenly too hot and tight. He allowed no room for her to reciprocate: he plundered her mouth, tongue sweeping into every corner, every crevice, battling her own tongue into submission.

He stood and dragged her with him, unwilling to let her go for a second, and gasped as he pressed her against the table, his weight holding her in position.

‘Well,’ she thought, ‘I guess it worked.’

—-  
  


Having essentially said _fuck it_ to all notion of control, Gold allowed himself everything he’d been denying them both for the last six months.

The hand that wasn’t looped in the curls of her hair roamed down over her body, exploring those delectable curves that were so beautifully flaunted in that tiny dress. He rubbed her breast through the material until she gasped against his mouth, and he swallowed it down as his reward. He ran a hand down over the swell of her ass and held her even closer against him, aligning every inch of her body with his.

He finally broke their kiss, surfacing for breath, and looked down at her face. Her eyes were dazed, her lips red and swollen from his kisses, and he allowed himself a wicked smirk of satisfaction at his work.

He thought for a moment about indulging his earlier fantasy of fucking her on the table, of stripping that dress right off of her and laying her out like the most delicious meal he’d ever seen, ready to be devoured.

But then it would be over far too quickly.

Her eyes had fluttered open, and she saw the evil smile that had taken over his face. She looked a little frightened, but the way she shivered and bucked into him told a different story.

She’d been torturing him all evening: now, it was time for a little payback.

—-

Gold’s hand was clasped around her wrist, just hard enough to be assertive without feeling as if she couldn’t get away if she wanted to.

She could run away, and he wouldn’t stop her.

So it was lucky for him that she really, really didn’t want to. He was looking at her like she had wanted him to for months: like all he wanted to do was rip her clothes off and eat her alive.

Which was a plan she was completely on board with.

He dragged her through the house, up the stairs and into the bedroom. _His_ bedroom.

The one she planned to call hers from now on, if tonight ended well.

That was the last lucid thought she had for a while, because right then he spun her around, and used her momentum to throw her backwards onto the bed. She squealed as her back hit the mattress, and scooted backwards as he came to join her, looming over her with a wicked grin.

She barely had time to catch her breath before he was kissing her, slower than before, taking the time to languidly explore her mouth as his hands went to work sliding under her skirt, fingers mapping every inch of her skin.

He broke away and grinned down at her, as he gripped the hem of her dress, encouraging her to lift her arms so he could pull it up over her head.

She refused to just lie there passively: she reached up and started to undo his tie, sliding it out from his collar and pulling him down to her with it. He kissed her smiling mouth for a moment, before pulling back to help her with the buttons on his shirt.

He threw the offending garment across the room, and was right back on top of her, his bare skin flush against hers. She cried out as his lips reached her throat, trailing a line of sharp, nibbling kisses up the column of her neck to her jawbone.

When he moved up and looked down at her, she felt heat rising in her cheeks. It had taken her this long to realise that, aside from her bra and panties, she was now completely naked before him.

For a moment, she had the urge to somehow cover herself, but she supressed it and looked boldly up at him. She’d started this, and she knew she’d be forever disappointed if he didn’t damn well finish it.

The embarrassment went away when she saw the way he was looking at her. His eyes scanned every inch of her body, and it felt almost as physical as when his hands had done the same.

She’d never felt so sexy as in that moment.

“Now,” he said, breaking their silence, “Pretty as this is, I don’t think we’ll be needing it.” He gestured to her bra, and she nodded enthusiastically, reaching behind to unfasten it and throwing it to join the rest of their discarded clothing.

They shared a wide, almost conspiratorial grin, and Belle had to giggle. He had never looked so happy in all the time she’d known him.

Then his hands went back to work, clever fingers running little circles over her breasts, hardening the nipples, the small pain of his fingernails on her flesh only intensifying the sensation.

Her eyes squeezed closed, and she felt him move down her body, fingers leaving trails of fire over her ribs and belly as he went.

He slid one finger down over the wetness at her centre, and she moaned and bucked into him. “So,” he murmured, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers across her skin as he settled between her legs, “I don’t think these serve much purpose, either, do they love?”

She shook her head, eyes meeting his as he pulled her knickers down over her legs, the material whispering across the backs of her knees and over her feet.

She was laid completely bare before him, and she’d never felt so good.

Then, all coherent thought died as he went to work on her dripping core, tongue sliding through the moisture and lapping at her clit, her whole body set alight. He explored every bare inch of her aching flesh, his movements sharp and fast, darting in to taste her and each time finding a new way to make her cry out and buck into his mouth.

She could feel the pressure in her centre coiling, ready to release and explode. Her fingers found the back of his head, wove into his soft hair and held him right there, right where she needed him, every nerve focused on the movement of his lips and tongue and – _oh, God!_ – teeth.

She was so close, so close, just one more touch and –

He looked up, mouth glistening, and just _smiled_.

_Bastard!_

—-  
  


Belle looked like she was ready to brain him with something, and Gold’s smile just widened.

He’d had a hunch she’d enjoy that. He’d never been happier to be proven right.

He let her calm down for a moment, her head falling back against the pillows, before he decided to be cruel for just a moment. He ran one long finger right down her centre; right down to where he knew she needed him the most.

He teased at her opening, dipping his fingertip inside enough to make her moan, but not nearly enough to make her happy.

He worked his way back up her body, taking time to admire the expanse of creamy, perfect skin, to remind himself that she was here, wanton and wet and willing, just for him. _All for him_.

“Alright, love?”

He smirked at her, trying to ignore his own growing desperation.

He’d been getting hard since the moment he saw that damnable little red dress, and now it was getting almost unbearable. But he swore to ignore it: if he was going to break all of is careful, uncharacteristically self-sacrificing rules, he was at least going to make it good for her, too.

That plan that went completely out the window when she reached down and cupped him through his pants. He looked down in shock, wondering if she even knew what she was doing.

The pleased little smile on her face answered his question. “Oh, Belle, what _have_ you been reading?”

“Stories that are more like instruction manuals,” she replied, and he realised he must have said that last question out loud. Oops.

She started rubbing, stimulating nerves that were already on high alert, “Now,” she leaned up to his ear, “We don’t need these; do we?”

Her fingers had started working on his belt, but they were shaking and ineffective. He reached down to help her, and within a minute they had cast aside his belt and trousers, and he was right back where he needed to be.

With his cock pressing against her hot, wet opening, and her eyes bright and fixed on his, and every inch of his bare skin pressed against a part of her soft, warm body.

He could have stayed there for eternity, if she wasn’t squirming impatiently and trying to wriggle down to force him inside of her.

He pushed up inside her in one long, smooth stroke, taking it slowly so she could adjust to the feeling. Her eyes widened, and she let out a little gasp of pain as he sheathed himself entirely in her warm, wet heat.

He wanted to start immediately, the pressure built to such a degree that all he wanted, _needed_ , in the universe was to pound into her, as hard and as fast as he could, and bring her off with his name on her lips.

_Next time._

Now, she was looking at him with a vulnerability that was almost fear. She had been nothing but bold, even brazen, all evening, but in the end she was still a young girl, and he was so much older than her, and this was how it had to be.

So he went slowly, pulling out a little before pushing back in, smiling when, this time, her gasp seemed to be more pleasure than pain.

He built a rhythm, slow and deep, and revelled in the slide of her wetness against his cock, the way she began to swoon and moan with every thrust. She was so close already, her arms came to limply grasp his shoulders, her legs wrapping around his waist of their own accord to afford him a deeper, harder angle.

She was so hot, so tight, and he’d been so worked up since the moment he saw her. He grit his teeth, knowing he wouldn’t last long but desperate to see her come first, to feel her walls contract around him and watch her fall apart.

He wanted to hear her scream.

So he picked up the pace, just a little, and snaked one hand down between them to flick and rub at her swollen clit in time with his movements. He loved the way her back arched, her hips bucking to meet his cock and his fingers with every thrust.The look on her face was uncontrolled, lost in the sensation, mouth open and eyes screwed shut.

He leaned down and kissed her, unable to stop himself: she was so beautiful, and he’d missed her so much, and this was so much better than any dream of her he’d ever had.

She kissed him back fiercely, one hand moving from his shoulder to hold the back of his head, keeping her lips locked against his.

She was breathing hard when they broke away, and he couldn’t help himself. “I love you.” He murmured, kissing every inch of her face, and he felt the moment when she came.

Her scream echoed through the room, and he felt her slick walls wrench his cock, the sensation too powerful for his wavering control. He came hard inside her, his thrusts erratic, rhythm lost as he fell into sensation, thought a thing of the past.

Finally, he collapsed on top of her and used his last bit of strength to manoeuvre them so he wasn’t crushing her, so she was curled into the curve of his body, and pull the sheet over to cover them.

—-

They lay there for a moment, silent. Belle could feel his breath on the back of her neck, and it raised the hairs there, sending a muted prickle of pleasure down her spine. His arms wrapped around her middle, holding her against him, and she never wanted to be anywhere else.

“Well, that definitely worked.” She muttered, almost to herself, after a minute.

“What did?” he asked, his words rumbled against her hair.

“Seducing you.” She smiled, and turned her head so she could see him properly.

“Yes,” he laughed, looking down at the pair of them, entangled naked in his bed, “I’d say it did.”

“I probably should have done it sooner,” she mused, “We wasted months edging around each other.”

“I was not edging.”

She gave him a look, one eyebrow raised, and dissolved into giggles. He looked so absurd, hair crazy and rumpled, still sweaty from their activities, trying to look dignified and affronted. “You were acting like I was made of glass.”

“Mmm,” he gave up on dignity, and nuzzled into her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple, “I thought it would be inappropriate to accost an innocent young woman in my own home.”

“ _Our_ home.” She corrected, “And I don’t think innocent applies anymore, do you?” she raised an eyebrow, and he conceded the point, “Anyway, I _love_ you, so it’s not inappropriate.” She added.

“No, but it does make you certifiably insane.” She could feel his smile against the back of her head, and it matched her own.

“Perhaps. But I’m happier this way.”


End file.
